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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27919015">Turn Your Gaze Upon This Wretched Thing</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/phichithamsters/pseuds/phichithamsters'>phichithamsters</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>phichithamsters's twitter fics [12]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Emotional Repression, M/M, Mutual Pining, Sex Pollen, They Are Not Together... Yet?</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 19:54:27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,458</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27919015</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/phichithamsters/pseuds/phichithamsters</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Ferdinand is stricken with an illness. He asks Hubert for help.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Ferdinand von Aegir/Hubert von Vestra</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>phichithamsters's twitter fics [12]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2027525</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>144</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Ferdinand</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>POV: you are Hubert von Vestra and you are Staring Intently. </p><p>This was written for a curious cat prompt from @Gladdybug, who asked for ferdibert sex pollen. I was more than happy to fill this!</p><p>(I know this title was taken from a quote made famous by some booty shorts, but it works so well here.)</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>What must Hubert think of him now?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ferdinand practically writhes in his bed, sweaty and panting. It was only the first hour of this, and Hubert had said there would be at least four more…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Goddess, Ferdinand feels as if he will combust. All of his muscles are on fire, his body screaming for release. He’d already cum three times and still, no reprieve. He takes himself into his hand again, sensitive yet hard as a rock. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He doesn’t mean to glance at Hubert, but when he sees the man watching him with fists balled tightly in his lap, Ferdinand has to look away in humiliation. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sex pollen, Hubert had called it. Ferdinand had come to him, flustered and feverish, worried that someone had poisoned his afternoon tea. It only took a quick sniff for Hubert to identify the poison, his nose wrinkling in distaste. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>From there, he laid out the symptoms: fevers. Chills. Shortness of breath. A tightness in his chest. An insatiable sex drive. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>All Ferdinand could do was get through it, Hubert had said. He suggested self-pleasuring, as many times as possible, to try to rid himself of the more unpleasant symptoms. There was something to be said for getting off, even if it wouldn’t speed up the poison’s half-life, it might alleviate the discomfort. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ferdinand was already feeling sick to his stomach at that point, and so he swallowed his pride and, reluctantly, asked Hubert to help him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>So Hubert had stayed, and now here they were. Ferdinand lies on the bed, sheets tangled between his legs, chest heaving as he draws another orgasm out of himself with clenched teeth. Hubert sits on a chair in the middle of the room with a pitcher of water, his face like ash. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Goddess,” Ferdinand groans. “It still… it still hurts.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hubert’s voice sounds strained when he answers. “Yes, it seems like you still are not at the worst of it yet,” he says, checking a small pocket watch in his vest pocket. He’s removed his cloak and doublet, no doubt from the temperature of the room, and his sleeves are rolled up past his elbows, revealing his lean forearms. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Perhaps, have you tried… touching yourself?” He asks, and the insinuation stirs the heat in his gut. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s what— that’s what I’ve been doing—“ Ferdinand huffs. He feels the heat returning, that languid tug in his groin. It’s been mere seconds since his last orgasm, and yet. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hubert clears his throat. “I mean, well, perhaps you could try… internal stimulation.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ferdinand wants to be mad— everything has him on edge at this point— but Hubert’s suggestion is actually quite helpful. Ferdinand quickly takes two of his fingers into his mouth, slobbering on them earnestly while he strokes his cock with the other. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hubert makes a strangled noise from across the room. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ferdinand quickly inserts a finger into himself, and just that gentle stimulation sends him over the edge of another orgasm. He doubles over, toes curling. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He flops back onto his stack of pillows. It helps, for a moment, but still, the heat remains, a deep burning in his stomach. He needs something </span>
  <em>
    <span>more</span>
  </em>
  <span>, something that will truly fill him up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ferdinand turns his head to the side, his sweaty auburn curls sticking to both his face and his pillows. Hubert is looking up at the ceiling. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ferdinand only has a minute or so before the pain becomes unbearable. “Hubert,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hubert snaps his head to face the bed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You said you would help me,” Ferdinand pants. “You said— </span>
  <em>
    <span>ah!</span>
  </em>
  <span> — you said you would help me, right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hubert nods tersely. The heat grows, threatening to send Ferdinand into a babbling, incoherent mess. He has to keep his control for just a few more moments. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hubert, I need—</span>
  <em>
    <span>fuck!</span>
  </em>
  <span>” Goddess, why was it so hard to get this out? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>In the same instant, Hubert is at his side, kneeling by the bed. He places his palm against Ferdinand’s forehead, and the tender gesture sends a jolt down Ferdinand’s spine, a shooting pain in his groin. If he doesn’t cum again soon…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’s getting dizzier, and Hubert’s face floats above him. His voice is gentle. “What do you need, my— Ferdinand?” He asks. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ferdinand gasps for air, clutches onto the fabric of Hubert’s vest, and pulls him close. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>I need you</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” he sobs into Hubert’s shoulder.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s too much. It’s all too much. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then, suddenly, Hubert’s arms are around him, strong and secure, laying him back on the bed. Ferdinand reaches blindly for Hubert’s hand and their fingers interlacing, locking together in Ferdinand’s iron grip. Another steady hand anchors him to the bed. Hubert’s fingers are scorching to the touch. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hubert quickly unlaces his own trousers and pulls them down roughly. Ferdinand gets a quick look at his cock— erect and shining— before he feels it between his legs. Ferdinand squeezes Hubert’s hand. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He pushes in without ceremony, but to Ferdinand, it feels like pure ecstasy. Relief floods him at once and he throws his head back with a low moan, mouth slack. Fuck, this is exactly what he needs— he feels so full, so satisfied, but it only lasts a moment before the desire returns, and Ferdinand is gritting his teeth and shakily asking Hubert to move. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hubert works him like a musical instrument, fucking into slowly at first and then picking up the pace, bringing Ferdinand to the edge and back down again. His body goes taut like the strings of a violin, and Hubert plucks one and Ferdinand snaps, cumming on both of their chests. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It stains Hubert’s vest, so he rips it off, along with his collared shirt. Ferdinand watches in a daze. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then, Hubert leans over Ferdinand, and ever so gently brushes some sweaty strands of hair from Ferdinand’s forehead. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How do you feel?” He asks. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Better…” Ferdinand says, truthfully. Hubert is still hard and inside of him, but even still, it’s not enough, though, and both of them know it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry,” Ferdinand whines, and clenches down involuntarily. Hubert winces. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s okay,” he says, followed by a dry swallow. “We will— we will get through this.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ferdinand feels himself growing hard again, and he curses. He wants to cry. It’s not just his body that’s overstimulated; the desire, the fever, the pain, the sex— <em>it’s all too much</em>. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hubert’s looks at him with a strange expression on his face, before cupping a hand around Ferdinand’s head and bringing him up to meet his lips. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And goddess, what a kiss. Perhaps it’s pollen, perhaps it is Hubert himself, but Ferdinand thinks he sees stars. The heat in his belly turns into molten lava that makes his back arch in need. Hubert’s lips make everything better, and yet. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hubert,” he whimpers into their parted lips. “I need— again—“</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hubert does not break the kiss, and begins to move his hips again, pushing deeper into Ferdinand. Each thrust makes Ferdinand whine, and Hubert laps them up with his tongue. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Another coil, another soul-shattering orgasm. This time, Hubert pulls out. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ferdinand clenches around nothing and he chokes back a sob. “I can’t— I need— please—“</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hubert pulls Ferdinand to his body, holding him tightly. “I know. Just give me a moment… I cannot sustain this pace..” with one arm secured around Ferdinand’s shaking body, the other rummages through a few of Ferdinand’s drawers. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know it’s not the same, but this will help, a bit,” he says, pulling out Ferdinand’s largest dildo. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>If it weren’t for the fact that Hubert’s dick had just been inside of him, Ferdinand might have been embarrassed. But the time for any other emotion besides want is gone, and Hubert nudges Ferdinand’s legs apart so that he can ease the toy into Ferdinand. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And he’s right, it’s not the same, but with Hubert’s lips on his, it gets the job done. Ferdinand cums, and then he cums again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’s not sure how the time passes, or how long Hubert fucks him with the toy. Hubert’s lips travel along his jaw, his neck, his collarbones, leaving firey trails in their wake. Each kiss is like water in the desert, but also the blazing sun itself. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>At some point, Hubert enters him once more, but he only lasts for a few minutes. By then, Ferdinand is standing at attention and ready for another round. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And then, it's over. It happens suddenly— one moment, he’s cumming dry, long since the point of having anything left to give, the next, he feels… hollow, like there’s an emptiness inside of him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His chest heaves as he catches his breath, and he pushes Hubert away from him gently. Their lips have been on each other’s almost the entire time. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think…” Ferdinand breathes, “I think it’s wearing off.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He takes stock of himself— panting, sweating, his entire torso sticky with cum. His legs shake from exertion. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hubert himself looks exhausted, sweat dripping from his dark curls. He sits back, but keeps one tentative hand on Ferdinand’s chest. “Are you sure?” He asks. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The exhaustion is setting into his bones, not once overpowered by a great lust. “Yes,” Ferdinand says, looking at his hands. “Quite sure.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, that’s good, then,” Hubert says. He wipes his forehead with the back of his hand and then scoots further away, his legs hanging off the side of the four-poster bed. Ferdinand crosses his own legs, feeling exposed for the first time all day. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And perhaps the pollen is still in his system, but Ferdinand leans over and, with one hand, turns Hubert to face him, so that he can press his lips onto Hubert’s temple for a long, languid kiss.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hubert tastes like salt. “Thank you,” Ferdinand whispers, moving back and pulling the sheets up to his chest. “Thank you for doing that for me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hubert brings his hand to his forehead briefly, and then nods. “Of course. I was just doing my… I was helping a friend.” He crosses his hands over his lap, where he is still exposed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I suppose… I should go then,” Hubert says. He pauses for a moment, and his tongue darts out to lick his lips— small, but Ferdinand sees it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The hollow feeling returns, dark and inescapable in the pit of Ferdinand’s stomach. “Would you stay?” He asks, his voice small. Hubert turns to him. “Watch over me a while longer?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hubert nods, and gathers up a blanket around his waist. “Will you sleep?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not yet,” Ferdinand says. “I just need… a moment. Or two.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course,” Hubert says. And together, in silence, they sit. </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Hubert</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Hubert recalls the events of that day— or rather, he lives them.</p><p>(aka: the Hubert POV of Turn Your Gaze)</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Hubert cannot look at Ferdinand.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There’s something about him in that bed, sweaty and desperate, verging on feral, that makes Hubert’s grip feel like it’s going to splinter the armrests of the desk chair he currently sits in. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>If he could, Hubert would be in the corner of the room, as far from the bed as possible. But he said he’d be there for Ferdinand, he’d promised his help.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He swallows again— has the temperature risen yet again?— and fists his hands into his slacks, slick with sweat.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ferdinand's agonizing groans get his attention once again. “Goddess! It still… it still hurts.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hubert’s heart aches, but he stays anchored to his seat. There is a way to help… more, that is, but unless Ferdinand asks, Hubert can’t— he must not think of such things. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Instead, he checks the pocket watch in his vest pocket. It’s hardly been any time at all. “Yes, it seems like you still are not at the worst of it yet,” he says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He takes a deep breath, steels his nerves, and dares a glance towards Ferdinand. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The man is full nude, sweat glistening off of his chest like a marble statue, perfectly chiseled, impossibly human. The bedspread has been long since discarded, sheets are tangled in between Ferdinand’s muscular legs, and Hubert can see every tantalizing detail of them beneath Feridinand’s skin, shifting and pulling. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>All the air leaves him. “Perhaps, have you tried… touching yourself?” he asks. It comes out hoarse.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s what— that’s what I’ve been doing—” Ferdinand sounds annoyed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hubert scrambles to clarify, but his voice dies in his throat. He clears it hastily. “I mean, well, perhaps you could try… internal stimulation.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His face burns. Hubert is not a man to be embarrassed by much, but saying those words aloud… he cannot look Ferdinand in the eye again, even if he wanted to.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But then he hears the sounds of something wet, and he makes the mistake of turning his gaze once more to see Ferdinand with two digits in his mouth, sucking at them fervently while stroking his cock with the other. Hubert cannot help the noise that escapes him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He shifts uncomfortably, incensed by his growing erection. It’s best, perhaps, to look very far away for now. He tilts his head to the ceiling and tries to focus on the ebb and flow of the grains on the wood.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Again, his mind drifts to the unthinkable. If Ferdinand were to ask him for it, Hubert would, willingly— perhaps too willingly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He and Ferdinand seem to be on a precipice of something, but this… Hubert cannot figure it out, and he dares not even try. Perhaps this is the final nail in the coffin of whatever has been blossoming between them; as if Ferdinand would ever want to see Hubert again after this debacle. Hubert can’t bear to think of what happens </span>
  <em>
    <span>after</span>
  </em>
  <span>. All that matters is getting through now.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A weak call of his name from across the room snaps him back to the present, and he turns to see Ferdinand facing him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You said you would help me,” he says, but it’s more of a question. His eyes screw shut. “You said— </span>
  <em>
    <span>ah!</span>
  </em>
  <span> — you said you would help me, right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hubert doesn’t breathe. His head moves on its own, nodding once in a mechanical motion.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hubert, I need—” Ferdinand doubles over. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Fuck!</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hubert’s body moves before he can think, and he’s next to Ferdinand’s bed in an instant, kneeling down. He brings one tentative hand to Ferdinand’s forehead. Goddess, he’s burning up. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ferdinand sways, as if the effort of staying upright is taxing. Hubert bites his lip. He wants to help, he just— he needs Ferdinand to tell him what he needs. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What do you need, my—” </span>
  <em>
    <span>My love. My dear. My one and only. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Hubert stops the words from escaping his lips. “Ferdinand?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ferdinand lurches forward, scrambling for Hubert’s vest to pull him tightly against his chest.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I need you,” he sobs into Hubert’s shoulders, and Hubert breaks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He pulls Ferdinand to his chest, tightly, a whine escaping from Ferdinand’s lips. Hubert quickly maneuvers Ferdinand onto his back, laying him down gently, one hand poised on Ferdinand’s hip to steady him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’s surprised when Ferdinand's hand finds his own and grips it tightly, entangling their fingers together. Ferdinand brings them towards his open mouth and kisses them, breathes onto their interlocked fingers. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>That, out of everything, makes Hubert flush. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But he works fast, using his free hand to unlace his trousers, his cock already tenting painfully against the restraints. He shimmies them down, and as quickly as possible, lines himself up and pushes into Ferdinand. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>If this were another time, a simpler time, Hubert might have relished in the sensation of Ferdinand around him, the hot, desperate heat squeezing around him and pulling him further in. But instead, Hubert looks at Ferdinand’s face. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ferdinand’s eyes roll back and his whole body goes slack. He's quiet, just for a moment, as the relief sinks into him. Hubert remembers to let out a breath. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And then, Ferdinand opens one eye and weakly asks, “Move?” Hubert nods. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hubert has never considered himself a very skilled lover, but perhaps years of pushing Ferdinand’s buttons, years of dancing around each other have heightened Hubert's senses, and he seems to know exactly where to touch Ferdinand to make him sing. More likely, it’s the pollen that makes Ferdinand pliable and breathy at every stroke of Hubert’s hands, but regardless, Ferdinand seems more at ease than before— in fact, he seems to be enjoying himself. Gone are the cries of pain from insurmountable pleasure; the sounds coming from Ferdinand are honest and deep, pried from the depths of passion and ecstasy rather than hot need and desire. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ferdinand demands a rather brutal pace, but Hubert works with him, through him. He’s dripping sweat by the time Ferdinand’s vocals reach their peak and he tenses, cumming all over his own chest and Hubert’s vest and shirt. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ferdinand closes his eyes for a moment so Hubert quickly strips himself of his tops. He was boiling in them, anyway. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>There are strands of hair sticking to Ferdinand’s forehead, partially covering his eyes. That can’t be comfortable, Hubert thinks. He gently pushes them back, out of Ferdinand’s face. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How do you feel?” He asks. Part of him hopes... well, no, it’s best not to hope. He must keep Ferdinand’s best interest in mind over everything, especially his own selfish desires. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Better,” Ferdinand says. His eyes travel down to where their bodies are still joined, and surprises Hubert by clenching down (whether it is involuntarily, Hubert knows not). </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hubert winces and Ferdinand apologizes quickly, but then he does it again, and Hubert has to grip the sheets, close his eyes, and count to a steady ten before speaking again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s okay,” he says. Ferdinand’s eyes are upon him, and he swallows. “We will— we will get through this.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’s about to speak more— ask what Ferdinand needs, wants, desires, for Hubert would fill it all— but Ferdinand lets out a string of very unbecoming curses and Hubert sees him getting hard again between them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ferdinand bites back tears. He must be struggling... is there nothing more Hubert can do? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Perhaps he should have begun this way, but Hubert cups a hand behind Ferdinand’s head, and leans down to bring their lips together. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And what a glorious kiss it is. Ferdinand’s lips are burning, as is his skin, and he immediately opens his mouth to whine into Hubert’s. Hubert gently catches it, his teeth on Ferdinand’s bottom lip. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hubert,” Ferdinand says, into their joined mouths, right into the depths of Hubert’s soul. “I need— again—“</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ferdinand gasps before he can finish, his body arching to press against Hubert’s. Even still Hubert understands. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He does not start slowly this time. He snaps their hips together, over and over, as quickly and as forcefully as his legs allow it. It’s both easier and harder in this new position, bend over Ferdinand like this, but Ferdinand’s legs wrap around his torso to urge him deeper and bring them closer. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hubert has been on edge for almost an hour now, and the second time Ferdinand comes, clenching down around Hubert and moaning Hubert’s own name, Hubert releases with an unseemly grunt. He’s not sure if Ferdinand even notices. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He wants to bury his head into Ferdinand’s shoulder, bask in the post-coital glow, but he knows Ferdinand will not be blissed out for long, and before long he’ll be begging for more. Hubert simply cannot keep up. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But luckily, he has a plan. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>If Ferdinand weren’t such a loudmouth, perhaps Hubert would not know about the collection of dildos he keeps in his bedside table. But Ferdinand is incapable of keeping a secret, even his own, and so Hubert knows just where to look to solve his refractory problem. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The second he pulls out, however, Ferdinand groans like he’s in pain, and tears well up in his eyes. “I can’t— I need— please!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hubert aches. The poor man, the poor, wretched man he so loves. Quickly, he pulls Ferdinand up and holds him tight against his chest. Ferdinand clings to his bare chest, fingers digging into skin, and sobs. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know, just give me a second,” he says. “I cannot sustain this pace...”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Time being of the essence, Hubert pulls out a toy from Ferdinand’s bedside table and unceremoniously spits on it, hoping it will be enough to push in without hurting Ferdinand.  He gently pries Ferdinand’s face from his shoulder. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know it’s not the same, but this will help, a bit,” Hubert says. Ferdinand nods, looking a little shy, and, well, Hubert is not sure what to do with </span>
  <em>
    <span>that</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>So he leans back in to kiss Ferdinand, a bit more gently this time. Then, he guides them back down, nudging Ferdinand’s legs apart. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ferdinand opens them with a whimper, and Hubert eases the toy into him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Once buried to the hilt, Ferdinand gasps, cums once, and then asks Hubert to</span>
  <em>
    <span> fuck him</span>
  </em>
  <span> with a whisper. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hubert is more than willing to oblige. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He fucks him as steadily as possible, yet as relentlessly as possible, since that's what Ferdinand needs. Each time he cums, there is less liquid and the relief is shorter. Hubert tries to make up for his absence by kissing other parts of Ferdinand’s body, pieces and parts he’s admired for decades. His strong chest, the taunting dips in his collarbones. His soft nipples, the peaks of his hip bones. The inside of his wrists and forearms. The muscles of his abdomen. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hubert’s absence on Ferdinand’s lips is felt, and while his mouth is elsewhere, he gives Ferdinand two of his fingers to suck on greedily. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ferdinand whines through it, his coherence fluctuating with the time, sometimes giving Hubert directions, other times spouting words on the verge of meaning but not quite. His body dips and curves and sings to Hubert’s ministrations, and some time later, Hubert is able to enter Ferdinand once more, giving his partner three more delicious orgasms before he has to switch back to the toy. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When Ferdinand first cums dry, Hubert is worried momentarily. Ferdinand’s eyes screw shut and his body tenses, but nothing happens as he cries out. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Even still, moments later, he is ready and begging for more.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hubert’s wrist aches, so he switches hands frequently. Then his arms begin to shake, and his hair grows damp with sweat. Hubert cannot be sure how much time has passed, his pocket watch long since discarded, so he’s never quite sure how long Ferdinand will last.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But even as his strength wanes, his resolve never weakens. Ferdinand needs him now, and so here he will be. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Time does not stop, but Ferdinand does, after Hubert twists the dildo deep inside of Ferdinand— he gasps, no doubt cumming again, and then, for a moment, he is still. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hubert does not move, either. Perhaps this is simply a longer lapse, and Ferdinand will spring back up shortly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ferdinand sighs into their open mouths, and Hubert pulls away, just an inch. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think... I think it’s wearing off,” he says, his voice raw. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hubert slowly sits up, but he keeps on hand poised on Ferdinand’s chest. His heartbeat seems slower, too. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you sure?” He asks. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ferdinand looks weary when he nods and answers, “Yes. Quite sure.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Now he feels the exhaustion as well, and he sits back on the bed, trying to catch his breath. “Well, that’s good then,” he says. A trickle of sweat drips into his eyelashes, so he wipes it away with the back of his hand. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Suddenly, Ferdinand leans forward and kisses his sweaty forehead. His lips rest there for what seems like minutes before pulling away. “Thank you,” he says. “Thank you for doing that for me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hubert’s face flushes, and almost reflexively, his fingers touch the spot on his forehead where Ferdinand’s lips just were, as if he could remember their feel forever. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course,” he responds, slowly. “I was just doing my—“ he is going to say that </span>
  <em>
    <span>he was doing his job</span>
  </em>
  <span>, but he catches his tongue. This isn’t something he’d do for anyone else. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He wouldn’t want to. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I was helping a friend,” he finishes, and there is some truth to that. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Now that the heat of the moment has passed, the chasm between them has opened up again, and Hubert dares not look at Ferdinand. In the fading afternoon light, it seems like both of them are more exposed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He kicks his legs off of the bed, and they dangle pathetically. “I suppose... I suppose I should go, then,” he says hoarsely. The last thing he wants to do is leave Ferdinand alone after all of this, but he knows that Ferdinand will want some privacy. Perhaps he will never look at Hubert the same way— Goddess knows the image of Ferdinand splayed upon his bedspread will be forever seared into his own mind. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>If Ferdinand does not want to see him after this, well, at least Hubert did what he was asked. Nothing less. Nothing more. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Even so, Hubert is reluctant to move. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Would you stay?” Ferdinand asks, quietly. Hubert turns to face him. “Watch over me a while longer?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hubert would like nothing more. </span>
  <span>He nods, pulling some stray sheets around himself to cover his waist. Ferdinand does the same.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Will you sleep?” Hubert asks. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ferdinand's chest rises and falls with heavy breaths. “Not yet. I just need a moment. Or two.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And then, the room lapses into silence for many moments, and after some time Hubert looks over, and Ferdinand’s eyes have fluttered closed. He must be exhausted.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When Hubert is sure that Ferdinand is fully asleep, he quietly rises amidst the soft creaking of the bed frame. He finds a small washcloth next to a basin of water, and he wets it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As gently as possible, he lays Ferdinand onto his back and covers him in sheets and furs. Holding his breath, he tries to wipe away some of the sweat that is cooling on Ferdinand’s brow. Ferdinand sighs but does not stir.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hubert’s lips hover over Ferdinand’s momentarily. He cannot bring himself to close the gap, and settles for the feeling of breath on his face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He stands up from the bed, intending to use the damp cloth to wipe the mess from his garments. But in a moment of weakness, of pure, unrestricted hedonism, Hubert brings the soiled vest to his mouth.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hubert walks back to the middle of the room, sitting back on the chair once more. He tosses the vest on the table next to him, a reminder of the messes he’s made, the stain on his and Ferdinand’s relationship. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Perhaps he will toss it into a fire, with flames the color of Ferdinand’s hair, and watch it burn.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hubert sighs, rubbing his face with the palms of his hands. Turning his gaze back to Ferdinand’s sleeping form, he wonders: since the “now”  is over, what is to happen next? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He ponders the question as the evening light fades low. </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Is it cliche to end a story with a rhetorical question? Yes, but also I'm tried of fighting with this ending and Hubert's emotionally repressed (flat) ass. He can suffer for the suffering he put me through.</p><p>Thanks for reading! I know I say it at the end of most of my fics, but I really mean it. Thanks for taking chances on my writing, time and time again. I appreciate you!</p>
        </blockquote><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hubert POV incoming soon ;)</p><p>Find me on <a href="https://twitter.com/phichithamsters">Twitter</a>, crying about how much I love Ferdinand and Hubert.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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